


winter wind sings and it cries

by nosecoffee



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Connor and Evan get to be happy, Description Heavy, Did we ever expect better from me, Evan is so beautiful that his soulmate is the Earth, Extended Metaphors, Fluff, Guess what fuckers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I didn't no hear a no, I'd like to say I was high when I wrote this, I'm so tired, It's Almost Midnight, M/M, Magical Realism, New Conspiracy: Connor didn't finish the milk, Plant Magic, Plot Twist, Repetitive metaphors, Some Angst with a Happy Ending, Some angst, Soulmate AU, Suicidal Ideation, That's why they never go to Á La Mode anymore, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Earth - Freeform, The Moon - Freeform, WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN I WROTE THIS, actually kinda nonsensical, big idea: Connor is lactose intolerant, but I've never even seen a marijuana, dialogue is sparse in this one, soulmate identifying marks, this is me hopping on the bandwagon, wowee another fucking soulmate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: There is no single person in the world that is made for any other single person in the world, even if the ink in their veins wills it otherwise, but Evan is different, Evan is special, Evan is something else.Evan can make leaves fall, winds howl, skies thunder, and branches snap when he pleases. Evan prefers to lie in the grass and watch the clouds race each other for his amusement. Evan prefers to watch the grass grow before his very eyes. Evan prefers to open his mouth, standing in the rain, ready to taste the rain on his tongue.(Or, I finally got around to writing a soulmate au)





	winter wind sings and it cries

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Blue Wind' from Spring Awakening
> 
> Lets face it; nothing I write will ever live up to the soulmate AU legacy that Piper_Emerald has set up with their fic "Blind", but I still wanna have a go, before the trope dies out.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Evan wants to share his powers with the rest of the world.

The world has no time for cute little magic tricks.

It's not his fault, not really. Evan likes to think it is, though. Likes to think that there's maybe something wrong with him, that he had to live in this world, skin untarnished by ink.

The mark that is supposedly inked into the skin of your wrist when you are born has been disregarded over many centuries, though, and that's the problem. It was fate, and then it was suggestion, and then it was ignored.

Nowadays, people hardly glance at the name. If they're lucky (or unlucky, in the case of people who receive such a generic name that they can never know for sure). Some people get names. Some people get pictures. Some people get nothing, but they're few and far between, these days, because the universe has decided to torture them with a name, or a picture, and a goal in life that they can choose to ignore.

Evan thinks he's lucky. Skin clear of anything. This way, he thinks, he never has to worry about disappointing them. (Or disappointing himself.)

His mother has a mark, not one that matched his fathers, because his fathers clearly read a name that was not hers, and vice versa.

Evan's special, or so she tells him, because other kids can't make tiny plants grow in the palm of their hands. Other kids have to wait around for flowers to bloom, but if Evan smiles, the daisies bend in the wind, and the sunflowers stretch towards the sky, just because he wills it.

Other kids have to wait around for their soulmates, but Evan is forever and irrevocably married to the Earth, and all its glory. There is no single person in the world that is made for any other single person in the world, even if the ink in their veins wills it otherwise, but Evan is different, Evan is special, Evan is something else.

Evan can make leaves fall, winds howl, skies thunder, and branches snap when he pleases. Evan prefers to lie in the grass and watch the clouds race each other for his amusement. Evan prefers to watch the grass grow before his very eyes. Evan prefers to open his mouth, standing in the rain, ready to taste the rain on his tongue.

~

That's why it comes as such a shock to the Earth when Evan climbs a tree in the middle of summer and commands the branch to snap.

It could never disobey him, it could never betray him in such a way, but the act of the branch detaching itself seems worse than that. The Earth is so aware of how fragile he is, how easily he will break, but it has no choice in the matter.

He commands the branch to snap, tears hot on his face like the summer rain that used to fall for him, and so the branch snaps.

The Earth made Evan to be its king, but what can the Earth do when its king wants to resign?

~

Other kids have marks on their wrists.

Zoe Murphy's mark dictates she might fall in love with a girl who works at the library when Zoe is six, or perhaps she will fall in love with the girl just one year older than her, who lives in the house that looks like a dollhouse, at the edge of town. Zoe Murphy is well aware of how many Alana's there are in the world. She is willing to bet the Alana she knows has a mark on her arm that bares Zoe's name. She is relieved when she's right.

Jared Kleinman's mark is a smattering of ink blots over his skin that he's yet to decipher, but every day moves closer to solving. The world may have given up and disregarded soulmates, but if there's anyone in the world who will love Jared Kleinman, he'll fight to the end of the Earth to find them.

Alana Beck's arm bares the name of a girl who she hopes lives in town. How many Zoe's could there be, out there, really? Could it be that the girl who plays guitar in Jazz Band almost religiously, who draws stars on the tips of her Converse and on the roll-ups of her dungarees, who's smile could put the sun to shame, was the girl who's name was etched into her skin for life? Alana dares to hope so.

Connor Murphy is beyond confused, when all that his skin shows him of his supposed soulmate is a silhouette of tall grass. That's it. Nothing else. Nada. What is he supposed to do with that? How will he know if he's found the someone.

His parents are matched, and yet they fight every night. He hears them through the walls. He can't expect that a soulmate will understand him completely when the only example he has is shattered on his kitchen floor.

Connor envies his sister and how easy she got off, sporting a name with pride, while he is left alone with no such clues of how to find the one person who-

Who is he kidding? No one finds their soulmates anymore, and if they do they're either terribly lucky, or terribly unlucky. With the way Connor's life is already going, he'd say that he's a part of the latter.

The moon looks down at him, frowning. Connor has a mark, but the moon is really the only true love he could ever have. Connor is a polar opposite to Evan, because Evan is a warm summer day to his cold rainy night.

Why is he not grateful for what little he is given? The moon ponders this in its rotation. Everything that it does for him never seems to be enough.

Maybe it's best if the someone he seeks, the person his mark represents, is in reach. Maybe it's time they give him a chance.

Maybe the moon should let him go, release him from its tidal clutches and let him plunge into the darkness that most walk on the Earth with, because the moon can't be around to light his way, anymore.

The moon makes a decision.

The Earth has to finally let Evan go. The Earth knows it was selfish, delaying any fate for him since birth, but it doesn't want to let him go. It knows it has to.

The Earth watches on, heartbroken, as the darkest ink in the world winds its way into Evan's pores, below the terrible cast on his arm.

The Earth knows it's for the best, that Evan was too small, too young to ever be the person it needed him to be, but still, it already misses him. He's still there, and yet he feels so far away. He bore such a burden, a burden he shouldn't have been born with, and it only worsened the load.

He is not leaving, it knows, but he is no longer theirs.

The moon and the Earth set free their loves, off into their semi-new lives with a parting gift.

~

"How'd you break your arm?" Asks Connor. Evan looks down at his cast, the skin itchy under the plaster. He lost his pen in third period.

"I - uh - I fell out of a tree." Evan responds, swallowing the tears that come unbidden to him whenever he thinks of the incident. A strange feeling of warmth crawls up his spine like ivy on a stone wall and he extends his arm to Connor when he offers to sign his cast. The interaction goes off without a hitch. Evan's glad that someone paid such close attention.

Connor shuffles as they talk, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie up, impulsively.

There, on his left wrist, is a picture of tall grass, silhouetted in a sunset. It loops around his wrist like a bracelet, and Evan wonders what it means, who the person on the other end of the mark could be, and how the grass connects them.

He's jealous for the first time in years. Connor stands there, with a real fighting chance to find someone in the world to love him, and Evan is alone.

Wind blows so hard in Evan's distraction that tree branches whack against the computer lab windows, and Connor jumps.

As it turns out, even through their separation, the Earth still responds to his whims. The Earth still loves him, even after what he begged it to do. That's a small comfort, in itself.

"What does it mean?" Evan asks, gesturing to the mark. Connor gazes down at it, eyes glazing over.

Evan's known many people in his life with nonsensical marks, so he's become accustomed to that look. "I don't know." Connor replies, voice soft, but light. "Yet."

There is so much hope in that singular word that Evan kind of wants to throw up. After all this time, Connor still has hope that the grass will craft him a path that will unite him with a person, one person, the only person who could ever match him fully and in every way.

Evan has no such hope. He wonders when the clouds racing across the sky for his amusement became so dull.

"What's your mark?" Connor asks. Evan's arm itches.

Evan smiles, meekly. He raises up his cast, showcasing the large scrawling sharpie cursive. "Not as fancy as yours..." He jokes.

Connor laughs and Evan trails off, knowing there's nothing more to be said.

"I have to go." Connor says, and leaves without another word.

Evan can't tear his eyes away from the ink on his wrist until Connor is out of view. Why does the grass look so familiar?

 _Ah, Evan,_ sighs the wind, _you'll soon see. The grass will bend to your will, and you will soon see what is in store for you._

It's almost like hope in the wailing gusts, almost like an inkling of fate that musses his hair and twirls him on the sidewalk as he walks home. Almost like a promise that he won't ever have to feel so alone, again.

Almost enough, but he'd soon see what enough was.

~

Most kids have to wait around for flowers to bloom.

Evan never has to wait, but, sometimes, he likes to.

Most kids have marks on their arms, imbedded deep in their skin with an irreversible ink that could mean nothing and everything.

Evan finds an eye drawn on his skin when the cast is removed, an eye that is piercing and familiar to a fault, and Evan has to live with that, but at least he's not alone with the whole Earth, anymore.

He's not sure whether he misses watching the grass grow, but he can make it grow for Connor, when he wants it to. Connor likes that.

And the Earth can live with losing Evan to the charade if it can gift him with the power to woo his soulmate. The Earth sees what it sacrificed and thinks that it's alright. That is can keep on spinning if Evan's found a happiness that it could never provide for him.

He matches the eye to Connor and he wants to find it shocking, buts it's just as shocking as the sun rising in the morning. Almost comforting in its existence.

Yes, the flowers still bloom quicker for him, and, yes, he can make a tiny sprout grow in the palm of his hand, and, yes, they clouds still race each other across the sky for his amusement, but, now, he doesn't have to watch them happen, alone. Now, he gets to share these wonders with someone, and that's better than anything from before.

 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading that utter mess. I wish I could blame something other than sleep deprivation, but I cannot. Please leave a comment and/or kudos, because they totally brighten my day, and hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee.
> 
> If you're looking for something else to read, may I recommend @HamiltonTrash's series "Sun Burns Bright", which is a soulmate AU, and, honestly, so good. Any works written by @ls201 are absolute gifts, so please do go and check them out.
> 
> I'm currently working on a project with the aforementioned authors, based on It by Stephen King, so if you're even remotely into mild horror and angst, please check out "if only i could not see it".
> 
> Alright, enough fic recs. thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Bye!


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